


Movie Night

by Sovvie118



Series: Askpolylosersclub Oneshots [8]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, OT7, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovvie118/pseuds/Sovvie118
Summary: Bill has an awkward problem during a movie night and the other Losers all decide to 'help him out'. That's it that's the whole thing this is basically just 5000 words of pure smut.Paired with the askpolylosersclub blog on Tumblr





	Movie Night

Bill Denbrough is in quite the predicament.

It’s movie night for The Losers’ Club, that time of the week where they all snuggle together on the couch and get lost in a couple of good stories –usually either horror or fantasy-. It’s normally Bill’s favourite day; he’s something of a self-proclaimed horror movie aficionado and often gets to choose which one they watch, when nobody else can be bothered to decide or when there are too many arguments, but today, he’s not feeling the vibe.

It’s not that the movie is no good. They’ve been having a Paranormal Activity marathon, classic, found-footage horror but easy-watching and doesn’t require anyone’s full attention. It was Bev’s pick, this time, although she’s currently half-hiding her face behind a cushion on Bill’s right side. The movie is fine. What isn’t fine, is that Bill’s stupid body has decided that this is the perfect time to give him one of those annoying, unprovoked boners.

He’s glad for the low lighting in the room, not so glad about where he decided to sit on the couch between Ben and Bev. Richie and Eddie are on the floor in a scattering of cushions and blankets, nicely obscured by the darkness aside from the light from the television screen. Bill, however, is right beside the one person in the room who has a complete and utter aversion to anything relating to horror, and currently has a fairly blinding LED light attached to the book he’s reading instead.

Normally, he’d enjoy sitting beside Ben. He’s always nice and warm, up for physical contact –especially that of the snuggling variety- and doesn’t move too much –like Richie- or ask too many questions about the movie –like Bev- or get up too many times to use the bathroom –like Eddie-. This time, with the glow from Ben’s reading light faintly illuminating them both, he’d rather be sitting next to all three of them at the same time.

_Actually, if he’s wishing for things, he’d rather be in the kitchen with Stan and Mike, whose voices he can faintly hear over the sounds of Richie’s loud popcorn crunching and Eddie screaming at every single moving thing on screen. _

He considers just getting up and leaving. His dick stirred into life about twenty minutes ago and his unwanted erection doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. He’d hoped to just wait it out but at this point, the only solution seems to be to go and jack a quick one off and pray that he makes it back fast enough for no-one to notice.

Well, that’s the plan, anyways, but as soon as he thinks about starting to move, he chickens out. What if he stands up and Eddie looks around and gets a face-full? What if someone asks him where he’s going? What if Stan and Mike come back from getting drinks and he bumps right into them? How will he explain what he’s doing?

He could just say that he’s going to the bathroom but then…that prompts more unappealing scenarios. What if he takes too long and they guess what he was doing anyway? What if someone goes and knocks on the door of the bathroom only to find that he isn't there? What if Richie decides, as he sometimes does, to join him in his little bathroom excursion and then he literally just has to take a piss, boner on full display in front of Richie, and then come back?

He stays in his seat.

That’s perhaps a mistake, too. Every minute that ticks by is torture and he can’t stop looking at the glowing numbers on Ben’s smart watch, counting down to the time that the movie will end and he can excuse himself and say that he’s tired. He’s only wearing loose sweatpants, but even those feel restrictive. He’s simultaneously glad that he didn’t put on underpants after his shower, and cursing himself for not doing so because there’s nothing to hide the obvious shape of his dick. If the lights were on, everyone would be able to see it.

The more he tries to ignore it, the more his mind wanders to places it shouldn’t. He thinks about taking care of this later in the privacy of his room with a lube-slicked hand and some firm, vigorous strokes, and his dick throbs in anticipation. He’s not helping his situation any, but he can’t help himself.

It’s not until he realises that he can no longer hear the soft sound of pages turning beside him that he turns to see Ben looking at him. His brain instantly shifts into panic mode, as if he thinks Ben must have been somehow reading his thoughts. The movie plays on in the background as they look at each other.

_“Are you okay?” _Ben’s voice is soft, barely a whisper in consideration of the others in the room and Bill notices that he’s leaned a little bit closer. He rests his hands in his lap, quickly but hopefully not so quickly that it will look suspicious, to hide his problem.

Giving him a quick nod and a forced smile, he waits until Ben’s eyes are drawn back to his reading material, trying desperately not to breathe out as heavily as he wants to and alert anyone to the fact that he was holding his breath. The moment passes.

He realises with some horror –no pun intended- that they must have been right at the beginning of the movie when his issue reared its head –also no pun intended-, as it seems to be going on a lot longer than he thought. Shifting in his seat to try and get more comfortable, his clasped hands brush against the tent in his sweats and he can’t seem to stop himself from giving it a light squeeze with one of his palms. It’s unnoticeable; the room is dark enough that such small movements aren’t an issue, so he does it again, feeling a faint wave of relief wash over him.

If he keeps his hands still in his lap, just the slightest movements ease the ache a little, he finds, as he lightly brushes his thumb up and down the underside of the shaft. It reminds him of the kind of teasing that Stan usually subjects him to, torturously edging him until it’s so sensitive that it actually _hurts_ to be touched, in a vicious cycle of pain versus pleasure. That thought plus the faint contact does make him even harder than he was to begin with, and he frequently has to try and adjust the fabric of his trousers to try and hide it better, whilst making sure that nobody in the room can see that he’s doing it.

It’s during one of these little ‘adjustments’ that he notices Ben looking at him again. Their eyes meet briefly and he’s sure that Ben is about to ask him again if he’s okay, but he doesn’t. It’s almost like he can sense the desperation coming from him, because he gives him a short look up and down, looks again as if he’s about to speak, and then doesn’t. He’s holding the book loosely in his hands as if he might close it.

_Please don’t close it. Just keep reading._

Ben’s eyes meet his own again and there’s a sort of tension there, between them, that he can’t quite place. He’s clasping his hands together so tightly in his lap that he can feel the indentations even from his short nails. Ben looks down again at Bill’s hands, and Bill can’t help shifting them nervously, to try to hide more of the bulge in his sweatpants. But he can tell that Ben has seen it, or at least figured out what’s going on, and he wants the sofa to open up and fucking swallow him.

It’s slow, the way Ben’s eyes come back up to his own, and he expects to see something of disgust or embarrassment in them, perhaps, but it’s quite the opposite. He holds eye contact with Bill for longer than Bill feels like he can stand, before turning back to his book, only this time he doesn’t look like he’s reading it at all. Bill can see the way his eyes hover on the page in the same place, not taking in any of the actual words. He sees him shift uncomfortably in his seat and something’s definitely changed.

He really wants to say something, to excuse himself and leave this whole situation behind but then, something about the way Ben’s eyes lingered on him made him feel rather hot all over. He’s never given much thought to the fact that being caught doing things he shouldn’t, gives him a weird adrenaline rush. It’s a power thing. It must be. In this situation, who has the power? Ben? Or himself? He can’t tell.

Is it his imagination, the way Ben’s eyes keep flicking back to him? They’re not looking at his face, this time, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s just too nice to say that he’s not into it, but he can’t look away. Either way, this has turned into something completely different than Bill thought it would. Even looking back at the television while he continues to apply a little pressure to the crotch of his sweats, he still doesn’t hear Ben turn a single page of his book. Sometimes, he honestly believes he can feel Ben’s eyes on the side of his face, and it makes his skin tingle.

It’s not until Beverly starts to move closer on his other side that he’s really in trouble. She’s been inching in his direction since the beginning of the movie, as she does with anyone who’s close whenever they watch something scary together. Only, this time, Bill isn’t really in the position to pull her close to him so she can shield her eyes in his chest. When her shoulder brushes his own and she turns to put her face against his neck, it’s all over. She lifts her head again slowly, chuckling with warm breath against his ear. Her breasts are pressing against his arm. He’s going insane.

_“Why are you all sweaty?”_ The last thing he needs is Beverly’s sweet voice, low in his ear, but it’s too late. She reaches up to press a cool palm against his forehead, flipping it over to the back, before snuggling her body even closer against his side. He can feel that she isn’t wearing a bra, _“Bill, are you okay?” _

He doesn’t want to speak. It’s difficult to whisper when you have a stutter and he doesn’t want to draw Richie or Eddie’s attention when he already has Ben _and_ Beverly’s. He nods at her instead. She looks unconvinced, touches his neck with her cold fingers like she’s trying to gauge his temperature but _Jesus fucking Christ she’s making things so much worse for him_.

“I’m fine,” he mouths more than speaks aloud, when she perseveres, but she catches his nervous look, gives a glance to his hands between his thighs and seems to suddenly catch on. He can practically see the moment it clicks in her mind, like the pieces of a puzzle fitting neatly together. A slow smile grows on her face, eyes glittering in the flickering TV light.

_“Aw, Baby.” _She’s still whispering but she’s using _that_ tone on him. The one she always uses when she’s up to no good. She was clinging to his arm but one of her hands drops to his chest, over his baseball t-shirt.

He shifts uncomfortably in her grip, readying to move closer to Ben’s side of the couch. Honestly, if they were alone, he’d be all over this, but she’s just going to draw more attention to him. When he looks over to see how much space he has to work with, Ben is definitely no longer reading his book. It’s still in his hands, but it’s just an object with no meaning, now.

He sees Ben and Beverly lock gazes past him, and there must be something considerably persuasive about Beverly’s eyes because Ben watches, calmly, as she slides her palm down the centre of Bill’s abdomen to meet his hands in his lap. She works her way underneath them without much resistance, and when she first touches him through the fabric, he has to bite at his lip. He doesn’t know what the best part is, that Bev is pretty skilled with her hands despite what she can’t see, delicate fingers finding the outline of stiff flesh through his sweatpants and tracing it, or that each time he looks over, Ben’s eyes are still on him. It’s like real life is playing out one of his many and varied sexual fantasies.

Beverly places a sweet little kiss against his neck when his head briefly drops back, rubbing at him harder, and he has to physically stop her from continuing like that for fear of making a noise that might alert anyone else. He can still hear Mike and Stan talking in the next room, realising that they could literally walk in at any minute and see the act playing out on the couch.

He considers suggesting to Beverly that they go upstairs –Ben, too, if he wants it-, so they can continue undisturbed, but while he’s looking at her and contemplating this, a hand comes from his other side and moves one of his own away from Beverly’s. He quickly looks to Ben, who is sitting closer on the couch, his book forgotten on the chair arm. His hand is warm and firm and slightly larger than Bill’s, which he holds aside so Beverly can continue.

Being trapped between the two of them, and touched in this way, where anyone could see, is pumping adrenaline through his veins quicker than he can react to it. Beverly strokes at him slowly, a soft pressure that makes him want to push his hips up into it. Even the simple contact between his and Ben’s hands is adding to the whole sensation. After a short while, the teasing is too much, and he can’t stop his head from dropping back against the couch, or the curse word that leaves his lips loud enough to make both Eddie and Richie turn around.

Eddie looks, predictably, like a deer in headlights, as he stares at the outline of Bill’s hard dick in his sweats, currently being traced with a single one of Beverly’s painted fingertips. Richie is also predictable, in that a wide grin spreads across his face as he looks at the three of them, and he raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Having a little bit of _fun_ back there, are we?”

Beverly doesn’t stop. Ben’s fingers loosen their grip on Bill’s hand, although he doesn’t pull away completely. Bill’s free hand is still resting between his thighs, close to Bev’s, and he resists the urge to push her away. At this point, it’s go big or go home. Richie moves closer to the edge of the couch, resting an arm against one of Bill’s knees.

_Go big it is._

He watches Richie’s eyes behind his glasses, carefully following the movements of Beverly’s finger. Bill doesn’t know where or when he got it, but he’s chewing gum, now, and each time his tongue comes out briefly to lap at the parting of his lips, it draws his full attention. Richie has very large features in general and as such, has been blessed with unnecessarily plump lips, the kind that invite wonderings about what it feels like to kiss them or to have them somewhere on your body. Right now, there’s a very specific place on Bill’s body that he’s imagining having them.

_“S-stop teasing me,”_ he manages to stutter, directed at Beverly, who thankfully abandons the single-finger technique in favour of using her whole palm upon hearing his complaint, although he hears the amusement in the brief chuckle she breathes close to the shell of his ear.

“I thought you liked being teased,” she states, still in that damned playful tone. She leaves a little collection of kisses, soft against his neck, as he lifts his hips into the contact between his legs. He can feel Ben’s shoulder pressing into his own at the other side, fingers still intertwined loosely, like it isn’t a conscious connection for either of them but rather something that’s happening by instinct alone. Richie presses Bill’s hips back down as he hisses his response to Beverly. Eddie is sitting closer than he was before, uncertainty still apparent in his facial features.

“Who t-t-told you that?”

“I did,” comes a steady voice from behind them, one that makes an involuntary shiver run through his whole body. He tilts his head back against the couch to look, upside down, at Stan. Mike is there, too, and he rests on his arms close to Bill, offering nothing more than a fond smile, although Bill feels warm fingers brush against the side of his face where his hand is. It’s a comforting, familiar contact and something that he would definitely associate with Mike Hanlon.

Stan doesn’t move in close to him, like Mike does. He rests his hands against the couch on either side of Bill’s head, holding his gaze. When Bill feels someone tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, he tries to look, but Stan gets a hand beneath his chin to tilt his head back again.

“Look at me,” he instructs. Bill isn’t sure how someone can make their voice both calm and commanding at the same time, but hasn’t Stanley Uris always been such a mystery to Bill? He has a way of ordering you around, while still managing to make you feel like it’s something you’ve decided on your own.

He’s still looking into Stan’s eyes when he feels Beverly’s hand –he can tell it’s hers by the slender fingers and the size of it-, move inside his sweats to gently grip at him. He’s had some pretty amazing handjobs from her in the past; she always seems to know when to go slow and when to speed things up, and there’s just something about her that’s sexy in an almost unfair way.

When another, larger hand that can only be Richie’s, slides between his thighs and almost underneath him to fondle him through his clothes while Beverly works underneath, he can’t help himself and tries to look again. Once more, Stan pulls him back. His grip is tighter this time, although he’s being mindful of Bill’s aversion to having his throat handled in any way and his fingers only ever touch his jaw.

“Look. At. Me,” he repeats, still utterly calm and collected while Bill feels like he’s nearing the exact opposite.

“Stan. Be nice,” Mike scolds playfully from Bill’s left, shooting Stan an amused look, before leaning in to press his lips against Bill’s temple in reassurance. He gives him another kiss, on the cheek, for good measure. This one is slow and lingering and Bill wants to turn his head to get those lips on his own but Stan’s hand prevents him from moving all the way and he can only lean into it slightly. Mike’s lower lip brushes his ear as he pulls away.

He feels yet another hand, on his abdomen this time, one that snakes under his baseball tee and up across his chest before coming to rest low against his stomach close to where Beverly’s hand is still working on him. It’s a large hand, warm and soft but with calloused fingertips and he thinks it might be Ben’s but he can’t look to confirm his hopes. Stan’s eyes are locked with his own, daring him to look away.

Richie’s tall body is right between his thighs, now. Two- no, three hands lift his shirt up off his torso and the frame of Richie’s glasses knocks against his chest before a tongue slides over one of his nipples and he gasps out a short breath. Beverly’s hair is tickling his neck. Ben’s arm has slid around his back and underneath him between his body and the couch. It pushes him closer against Richie and he can’t help but press his thighs against Richie’s waist. His whole body shakes slightly as Richie chuckles and he hears Mike laugh fondly, too, beside his ear.

Beverly doesn’t seem to be able to move her hand very much with it trapped between Bill and Richie’s bodies but she’s rubbing her thumb right over the head of his cock and it feels like torture. After sitting through so much of the movie unable to do anything about it, he’s just relieved to have someone’s hand on him. Not that he has time to think too much about Beverly’s hand with Richie’s tongue and hot breath all over his chest, Ben’s fingers digging into his waist and now Mike’s lips trailing up and down his neck.

He closes his eyes, relaxing into all of the sensations at once and trying not to get overwhelmed but Stan’s fingers push his head back just a little further and he feels him move, sees it get darker behind his eyelids as Stan leans down over him and their lips touch, just briefly. He tries desperately to chase the kiss but Richie’s body is holding him down in his seat as Stan moves just out of reach.

“_P-please_-,” he begs quietly, and he feels Beverly’s hand on him properly again underneath Richie, feels Ben’s firm torso against him as he moves in to get closer, feels Richie’s teeth scrape at one of his nipples and one of Mike’s hands grip at his shoulder. Stan, who the ‘please’ was actually for, is less eager to accommodate Bill’s begging but he gives Bill another brief kiss against his lower lip, then another, pulling away each time Bill gets too eager.

Another hand rests tentatively against the outside of Bill’s right thigh and instinctively, he knows that it’s Eddie. With all of them touching him at the same time, he feels suffocated in the best way. Heat pools in his body, right where Bev’s hand is touching him, where Richie’s lips meet his chest and Mike’s meet his neck, where Stan’s cheek rests lightly against his own, where Eddie’s fingers have pulled at the waistband of his sweatpants and now meet the bare skin of his hip.

He still has a loose grip on Ben’s hand, fingertips laced, just resting there but when Richie’s body slides lower between his legs and his tongue meets Beverly’s palm where it touches Bill’s dick, he locks his and Ben’s fingers together hard. Ben’s arm, still hooked around his waist, follows the arch of Bill’s back out of the seat just as Stan’s lips catch the soft moan that leaves his mouth. He feels Eddie grasp at his hip and the weight of him against his thigh. It’s like he’s drowning in heat.

As the fingers of Beverly’s free hand run through his hair, cool against his heated skin, Stan finally allows him to lift his head. Richie has moved aside to take off his glasses, distracted briefly, and Bill’s eyes meet Eddie’s. They look at each other for a long while, some unspoken energy passing between them like it had earlier when he was looking at Ben, until Eddie moves in before Richie can return to his spot between Bill’s thighs. He doesn’t kneel, like Richie was, but crawls over Bill and into his lap, knees either side of him where Ben and Bev moved slightly to give him space.

Bill feels a rush of adrenaline as Eddie kisses him with quite some intensity, both hands gripping the sides of his face. Mike is forced to move but he does it with a low chuckle, letting his hand slip down Bill’s chest where it was rubbing at his shoulder. Richie drops onto the couch next to Ben, resting his elbow across Ben’s shoulders and leaning in to get closer to Bill and Eddie. He reaches out for Eddie’s thigh and then across it to Bill’s stomach and chest, meeting Mike’s hand with his own and pushing it lower with a mischievous look in Mike’s direction.

Mike allows Richie to manipulate the direction of his touch, leaning right against the back of the couch so he can reach Beverly’s hand with his own. When his larger, firmer grip slides over Beverly’s fingers, _between_ them, Bill lifts his hips and breaks his kiss with Eddie to let out a high, shaking moan. Eddie leans toward the sound briefly, looking distinctly like it had some unnatural effect on him, before he follows Richie’s earlier trajectory and slides onto his knees. With some help from Bev and Mike, he gets Bill’s sweats low on his hips, and the two hands that were around Bill’s length are replaced with Eddie’s soft mouth. Bill’s responding groan is met by a soft ‘Holy fuck’ from Richie and a hitch in Ben’s breath.

Eddie works like he’s worshipping him, slow and deep. Mike and Beverly’s hands urge him on, fingers tenderly stroking his cheeks and combing through his dark hair, but Eddie only looks at Bill. And Bill is _wrecked_; rouge colours his cheeks, nose and forehead, where his hair sticks to his face and where beads of sweat have started to form. His lips are parted to let out hot, heavy breaths that he can’t seem to control. His eyes are fixed on Eddie’s.

Then Richie’s hand is there, too, gripping at the base of Bill’s cock where Eddie can’t seem to bear to reach with his lips, even for Bill. Eddie pulls off to use his tongue, instead, coating Richie’s fingers in saliva in the process but still entirely focused on Bill, who seems to be nearing the edge. Stan seems to sense this, too. He’s leaning on the back of the couch, now, close to Bill’s face, eyes examining every detail. He drifts closer and closer to him, smirking softly when his breath touches Bill’s ear and it causes a whole-body shudder that arches his back high off the couch. Ben’s hand is on Bill’s lower back, and he watches the way Bill reacts to it, bucking his hips against Eddie’s tongue and Richie’s hand.

Bill tries to tell them, mostly for Eddie’s sake, that he’s going to come soon, but the words won’t leave his lips. It’s like any sound he tries to form gets caught, thick, in his throat, and all he can do is whimper and moan as Eddie takes him back into his mouth. He doesn’t need to say it. They all seem to somehow sense it, almost as if they can feel it, too. Stan comes around to the other side of the couch and gently moves Eddie, who takes the hint and climbs up onto the couch against Beverly.

They all notice the way Bill’s pupils dilate in anticipation as Stan gets to his knees, watch the way Bill inches his thighs apart without Stan having to push them, the way he swallows, hard, as if he’s stopped _breathing_ when Stan leans in to lick at the side of his shaft. Stan’s eyes are fixed on Bill’s, just like Eddie’s were, but the intensity of the gaze makes Ben understand why Bill can’t seem to breathe. Nobody speaks while Stan continues to lathe his tongue over Bill’s heated flesh; it’s like all of them are collectively holding their breath waiting for the finish. Even Richie, who put his glasses back on earlier in order to see what Eddie was doing, hasn’t moved an inch since Stan stepped in front of Bill.

Beverly is the first one to move. She reaches down to push some of Stan’s curls away from his face and, without taking his eyes off Bill, he turns to place a kiss onto Beverly’s palm as she pulls away. When he drops his head to take Bill into his mouth, Eddie shifts in his seat. There’s a patchy, red blush over his neck and chest where it’s visible above his v-neck. Richie’s eyes are wide behind his glasses.

Without Stan’s eyes on him, Bill lets his head fall back against the couch and this time, Mike catches his lips, much more accommodating than Stan was with his teasing, and Mike _knows_ how to kiss. He knows how to kiss _Bill_, knows exactly how firm and how to work his tongue to get the best reactions out of him. Bill is lost in both of them as Mike catches every moan and gasp that leaves his reddened lips.

At one point, everyone’s hands are on him at once, or at least that’s what it feels like to Bill. There are hands on his chest, his stomach, his thighs and it’s almost too much for him to take. The heat in and around his body is unbearable but he never wants it to stop. He knows that Mike is kissing him but someone’s lips are on his neck. Two pairs of lips, either side of him, leaving identical trails of budding bruises down to his collar. Fingers pinch one of his nipples, probably Richie’s but he can’t tell who is who at this point. He’s vaguely aware of a tongue against his stomach close to his navel above where Stan is still slowly taking him apart with the heat of his mouth. He still feels like he can’t breathe, as if Mike is somehow doing it for him whenever their lips meet. There’s sweat running down the curve of his spine to where Ben’s hand is resting.

When he comes, he desperately clings to anyone around him that he can reach, finding Richie’s hand and Beverly’s arm. He faintly hears her say ‘_it’s okay, sweetie’_, but he’s not sure if he imagines it or not. Richie’s rings are digging into his fingers but it feels good. He can taste blood but he isn’t sure if he bit his own lip or Mike’s. Stan’s mouth is still around him, hot and wet and almost _too_ good. Bill’s breath is loud, pounding in his ears with his own heartbeat.

It takes him a long time to come down from his high but he feels them all there through the whole thing while his eyes are closed. Beverly’s sweet lips brush his cheek and he wants to cry. Or maybe he’s already crying. He isn’t sure. Someone holds his hand where it’s resting against Bev’s arm and he knows it’s Eddie. Their fingers slip together easily. Richie takes his other hand to his lips and kisses it. Ben’s arm is still supporting his waist, firm and comforting. Bill doesn’t ever want to move.

When he finally opens his eyes, they’re all looking right at him. Bill’s sweatpants have been returned to the right place on his hips and Stan is kneeling with his arms resting across Bill’s thighs, not a hair out of place and looking like he didn’t just completely take Bill apart with his mouth. Richie chuckles and Bill looks over to him. Their hands are still clasped tightly together.

“That was _fun_,” Richie grins, eyeing up the others and pulling his glasses low on his nose to peer at them over the top, “Who’s next?”


End file.
